


Feel the Touch of Grief

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e22 Posse Comitatus, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-17
Updated: 2003-04-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: And her world had fallen apart, Shattered into thousands of tiny, razor sharp pieces that would take her months to reclaim and rebuild.





	Feel the Touch of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Feel the Touch of Grief**

**by:** womanintobyscoat

**Character(s):** CJ, Simon, Toby  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Simon CJ/Toby friendship  
**Category(s):** Post-ep (Posse Comitatus)   
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:**  
**Summary:** And her world had fallen apart, Shattered into thousands of tiny, razor sharp pieces that would take her months to reclaim and rebuild.  
**Spoiler:**  
**Author's Note:** The song "Freedom" is by David Gray and is off the Album "a new day at midnight" 

> _Take your eyes off me  
>  There’s nothing here to see  
>  Just trying to keep my head together_

She was alone, sat on a bench in the middle of New York, crying for the man she had just lost.

He had barely been hers but before they realised how good it could be, he was cruelly snatched from her by a trigger-happy teenager.

People hurried by her bench. Some glanced at her, not recognising her grief or who she was. 

Others, that she was aware of, stared for longer - she felt their eyes bore into her soul. 

But still they passed her by.

> _As we make our vow  
>  Let us remember how  
>  There’s nothing good that lasts forever_

She had been so happy, excited even.

Her stalker had been caught.

He was no longer part of her detail.

He could finally be more to her than his job had allowed.

They could see each other in a way both of them had been trying to ignore from the start that they wanted.

Then they had kissed - with the press corps just feet away round the corner.

They had kissed and she had gone weak at the knees - it was soft, tender and full of promises of good thing still to come.

They had agreed to meet in exactly that spot later, after the show, and go for drinks.

But she would be denied this happiness - just as he would be denied his life.

Nothing-good lasts forever - she knew that saying - the unfairness was that it had barely begun.

> _Feel the touch of grief  
>  You stand in disbelief  
>  Can steal the earth from right beneath you_

And her world had fallen apart, shattered into thousands of tiny, razor sharp pieces that would take her months to reclaim and rebuild.

Ron’s words in the theatre sent her reeling backwards.

At first she protested - he was just outside - he was checking in with his field office - they were going to go for drinks.

She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe what Ron was telling her.

Just as she had let her guard down, shown more of her self to a man than she had in a long time, here was another telling her Simon was dead.

She felt as if she were dreaming, felt distant, felt crushed.

> _And falling in so far  
>  They know just where you are  
>  Yeah but there ain't no way to reach you_

Toby had found her on that bench, had heard the news from Ron.

He knew she had left the theatre and had gone to find her, quashing his need to yell at Ron for telling her when she was on her own, then letting her go off alone into the city night.

He sat down heavily on the bench next to where she sat, shoulders bowed, head in her hands.

Her name came as a whisper to his lips as she raised her reddened eyes to meet his.

He searched her stricken face for words that failed him seeing only that she had already begun to build walls of defence around her soul - protection from the pain - protection she had lost.

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders her drew her close, her barriers holding firm, damage control taking over.

Her tears had stopped - she was slipping out of his reach.

> _It's time to clean these boots  
>  Fold up these parachutes  
>  The words goodbye but I can't say it_

The black suit irritated her skin, suffocated her, as she sat on the polished wooden bench at the back of the church.

As CJ and Toby followed the coffin out of the church, down to the gravesite.

CJ kept her tears in check as Simon’s coffin was slowly lowered into the ground finding support in Toby’s arm around her waist.

She tried to speak as the coffin was covered with earth but the words caught in her throat. 

> _The end is close at hand  
>  I think we understand  
>  There ain't no use trying to delay it_

As the priest uttered the final prayer, CJ succumbed to the grief she had been suppressing.

Toby tightened his hold around her waist.

The service was over.

So to, CJ thought, was Simon’s life.

> _Fasten on my mask  
>  I'm bending to the task  
>  I know this work is never finished_

Carol watched as CJ set her jaw to the determined look she had been wearing since Simon’s death.

The barriers that lurked behind her eyes when she was with her friends increased tenfold whenever she went in front of the Whitehouse press corps.

Toby watched this too on the TV set in his office.

It was as if she gave her briefings wearing the old CJ as a mask - hiding her grief behind a façade of wit and sarcasm that floundered as soon as she left the podium. 

The senior staff checked in with Carol everyday to see if the façade ever slipped fully when CJ was alone in her office - to see if she ever cried.

Eventually the times when she had became less frequent.

> _And if I close my eyes  
>  I can still see you dancing  
>  Laughing loud and undiminished_

There were times though - times when she did cry.

These were times when she would reminisce. 

She would remember Simon at different points throughout their brief history.

Times like when he brought his little brother to the Whitehouse, or when he had walked her home from work singing some obscure song he had heard in his earpiece that day.

The time they had kissed - with the press corps just feet away round the corner.

She could still picture these times - vividly in her imagination.

Little times that she would commit to memory and never forget - the good times.

The ones that got her through the bad.

In time the hurt would fade - though sometimes she would still feel the touch of grief.

*** Fin ***


End file.
